Questions Blog Update
by Kadreia
Summary: John updates his blog after the Reichenbach Fall.  K  for language.
1. Chapter 1

Why would you lie to me? Why would you lie to your best friend? Was I ever your friend? Was I important to you? Was I too naïve? Was I just your pawn? Was I ever important to you? Was I, Sherlock? Was I? Was my time with you a lie? Did you ever love me? I am obsessing over what you have said. "_It's just a magic trick" _and "_It was a lie, a clever lie"._ I have doubts now, Sherlock. I doubt you. Should I? Should I trust you? Your words make no sense in my head. Such simple words but such a clever mind that said them, or are you really all that clever? Sherlock are you? Are you clever? I have so many questions I want to ask you, but I don't know if I want to hear the answers. You are always the magnificent Sherlock Holmes to me. That will never change. The past never changes. I guess this is why people talk more of the past then the future. The past doesn't change, so it doesn't scare them. Sherlock, I'm scared of what I heard you say. Why couldn't you have left that secret a secret? Why did you have to leave? Sherlock, why? Why did you leave me in this state? No one wants to be left alone when they are scared, but you made me terrified and then left me.

You are not a fake. No fake could do what you do. No fake can have your mind. Even if you lied to me, you didn't lie to the clients… unless you paid them to act. No, you couldn't have. I refuse to believe it. You couldn't have faked all those clients. No one is that good. Not even my Sherlock Holmes. My Sherlock Holmes…. Sounds so, so…. Never mind. My Sherlock was amazing, magnificent, beautiful. The Sherlock on the roof of that building was all those, but he was not _my _Sherlock. My Sherlock wouldn't lie to me… Unless you were protecting me. Was that it? Were you protecting me? How many times have I told you not to worry about me? You said danger and I came running. Remember? Your brother told me I crave danger and he was right. I came with you because when you walk with the great Sherlock Holmes you see the battlefield. You experience the rush of adrenaline. You... _You live._ You are not a fake. You are Sherlock Holmes, the world's only consulting detective. You are Sherlock Holmes, my best friend. You may have died, but I will never talk of you in past tense. You are too great for that. You are too great to die. Sherlock the world needs its consulting detective back. I need my best friend back. Mrs. Hudson needs her renter back. Molly needs her crush back. Lestrade needs his lifeline back. Anderson needs someone to annoy him. Mycroft needs his brother. I want my love back. I want you back, but you will never return. You jumped off that damn building and I will never know why. I can think and guess all I want, but I wont know for sure. Would you like to come back and tell me? Would you like to come back and answer my questions? Will you come back, ever? Will I never get to see you again? Will I never get to touch you again? Will I never get the chance to twirl you hair? Will I never get the chance to tell you that I love you? Because I do. I love the great Sherlock Holmes. So Sherlock, you can come home now.

**-JW**

* * *

><p><em>-Bog updated-<em>

"Now what would you do without your blogger, Sherlock," John sighed depressingly.

"Nothing."

"Sherlock?" John sat up surprised.

No reply…

* * *

><p><strong>Authors Notes: <strong>Sorry about writing very short fics lately. I've been having writers block. I guess you could say. This was meant to be complete, but if someone asks me I would love to write another chapter. I guess I just need some motivation.

**Please Review! Reviews are nice and generally make my day! So make my day and review please!**


	2. Chapter 2

"I could have sworn I heard him…"

"John, it's okay you're just missing him. That's all," his therapist said in a professional voice.

"Yeah. I guess that's it…"

"He's dead, John. You know that right?"

"I watched him jump! Of Corse I know He's dead!"

"Well I'm not sure you do or if you do you don't believe it…"

"I'm leaving," John murmured as he rose from his chair.

"Oh John, please don't go yet."

"Bye," John slammed the door behind him. 'That was uncalled for" he said to himself.

"Never liked her," came a small whisper behind John. He whirled around. Nothing. There was never anything. Ever.

"Oh God I'm going crazy," he whispered to himself. He hailed a cab.

"Baker Street." John rubbed his slightly throbbing head. "I should really get a grip," he thought to himself. "I miss him too much. What am I thinking it's been two fucking years! I don't have time for this anymore. I need to grow up."

His phone vibrated in his pocket.

_-One New Message-_

_-Blocked Number-_

_The heart cannot function without the brain and the brain cannot function with out the heart._

"What the hell?" John exclaimed aloud. The cab stopped. John stepped out and paid the cabbie. He walked up to his flat. He stopped calling it 'their flat' or 'the flat' at least he was making progress in letting Sherlock go. He had clean the entire flat. No more unexpected body parts in the fridge or cupboard and the smell of Sherlock was almost gone. That part he didn't like. When he got too depressed to bare it he would lay in Sherlock's room. His smell comforted him a little. It still wasn't as good as the real thing. He just wanted to hold Sherlock, to twirl his hair, to fall asleep with him. He just wanted to see him. John walked to the couch and sat down. There was nothing on TV there never was, just the same crap they always had on.

"If Sherlock were here I would probably be out on a case right now," he muttered to himself.

"Yes and Yes."

There was that voice again.

"Man I'm going insane."

"No your not."

"SHUT UP!" John screamed slamming his fist on the arm of the couch. Silence was all that responded. A tear fell from John's cheek

"John, don't do like that. You're going to hurt me more."

"What?"

"This isn't just hard for you."

"But it's the worst for me."

"I doubt it."

"My God, what am I doing I'm talking to a voice in my head."

"I'm not in your head."

"Yes you are. Now shut up!"

"Fine."

John heard a door close. He immediately jumped up and ran towards the sound. I was Sherlock's bedroom door. He shoved open the light, wooden door. The window was wide open and he sure didn't leave it like that.

"What the hell? Who was that?"

It had been a month since the window incident, and John hadn't heard that damn voice since. He was beginning to think that his sanity was coming back, but then it started again. It wasn't verbal, though, it was via text message. All from blocked numbers.

_Why don't you believe the papers?_

_What?_

_-JW_

_Why don't you believe what the papers said about Sherlock Holmes? It seems very credible to me. I mean he said it out of his own mouth._

_I don't believe them because they're not true. Who are you anyway?_

_-JW_

_That information will stay a secret for a little longer, and wipe that annoyed look off your face. It never looked good on you, John._

_Shut up. Why are you trying to not let me forget about Sherlock?_

_-JW_

_Because you should never forget something important._

_-SH_

John reread the last message over and over again. It couldn't be. It was just someone playing a cruel joke on him, right? He ran his fingers through his hair. It was considerably longer than he usually kept it. He hadn't had a hair cut in at least nine months.

_Stop. That's some cruel and stone cold joke._

_-JW_

_Okay then I'll pick up some more milk and tea and we can have a talk about it. You're almost out of sugar too. I'll make sure it's not drugged either._

_-SH_

"Drugged? What is he talking ab-… Oh God that really is him."

_Sherlock, where are you?_

_-JW_

_Sitting in our flat._

_-SH_

_You stay there I'll be home in five minutes._

_-JW_

_No not yet, John. I'm sorry. Not yet. I shouldn't have told you I was alive. Not yet. You can't see me..._

_-SH_

_Why not?_

_-JW_

_You just can't. Not yet._

_-SH_

_So you can see me, but I can't see you?_

_-JW_

_I'm sorry. Just not yet._

_-SH_

"God, that bastard!" John yelled. The cabbie smirked.

"Boyfriend problems, ay?"

John sighed. Everyone assumed he was gay. Oh well they were probably right.

"Yeah. I guess you could call it that." John replied.


	3. Chapter 3

Days turned into weeks, week turned into months. Sherlock never came home, and he never made any connection with John. John was beginning to think he would never see Sherlock again. Life was boring without him, but John never thought of suicide again because he knew his friend was still alive. He tried texting the number Sherlock texted from when he told him he was alive, but with no results.

John had recently gone back to work. Everything seemed just fine. Well, as fine as anything could be without being able to see your best friend. Yes, everything was good until that day. The day Sherlock was going to surprise John and come home. Sherlock had planned to meet John at the flat after he was done working.

John didn't get off work till late around ten or so. Sherlock was ready to see his friend again, but to his surprise John went to the pool instead of going home. Sherlock was genially confused that this. He didn't want to interrupt John so he just followed him there. It was around ten thirty when John arrived at the pool with Sherlock, hidden in the shadows, following him.

John walked in the door.

"Why wasn't the door locked and why wasn't John surprised it was open? Better question: What the hell is John doing?" Sherlock thought to himself. John walked to the edge of the pool. The same place where John and Sherlock had been when they met Moriarty for the first time.

John sighed then said loudly, "Sherlock, are you here?"

Sherlock jumped. He wasn't supposed to meet John here. Had John lost it? No, of course he hadn't. Sherlock had been watching him since he "died", and after awhile John seemed to brighten up and showed no signs of loosing his mind.

Sherlock was snapped out of his thoughts by John's voice.

"Sherlock!"

"He's not here, John," Moriarty's voice echoed through the empty building before he stepped from the shadows. "He's not here, and he will never be here, John."

Both John and Sherlock were shocked.

"Wha-what are you doing here? You died! You killed yourself!"

"Pfft! The villain never dies in the real world, and this isn't a fairy tale Dr. Watson."

"Does that mean Sherlock's-"

"Yes, Sherlock's dead! It was never him! It was always me. I sent you the texts! I was that little voice in your head!"

"No, you couldn't be!"

"Get over it already he's dead! Gone! Rotting somewhere six feet under!"

"I-"

"And now you get to see him."

"What?"

Moriarty pulled a gun from his jacket pocket. "You heard me," Moriarty aimed the gun at John's heart. "Good bye, Jo-"

"Stop!" Sherlock ran from his hiding place and over to John.

"H-how? What the hell?" Moriarty stuttered.

"You're not the only one that cheats death." Sherlock said coldly.

"Sherlock, you-"

Sherlock turned to John "I'm sorry I left I had to if I didn't they were going to ki-"

"I don't like being interrupted, Sherlock," Moriarty said with a glare that would scare any soul. "As I was saying. Good bye, John."

_-pfft-_

John grunted, holding his stomach while falling to the ground.

"Joh-"

"Be thankful, Sherlock, I didn't shoot him in the chest. I can at least let you talk to him before he dies." Moriarty laughed before walking out. Sherlock hated that laugh. He swore to never let that man laugh again if John died.

"Sherlock…" John whispered. He was in pain.

"John, I-I…"

"Sherlock, stop talking," John ordered. "I love you, Sherlock. Don't forget that."

"John, you're not going to die. John, please…"

"Sherlock, I'm going to die."

"No!" Sherlock held John in his arms and began to cry. "Don't go, please. I love you too much to let you go. Don't leave me alone again."

"Sherlock, promise me you will move on. Don't forget me, but please move on. Find someone else… for me," John winced at his pain, "Good bye, Sherlock. It was fun." John took a breath and closed his eyes. He was gone and he wasn't coming back.

"I'm sorry, John I can't make that promise. I'll go as long as I can without you, but it shouldn't be too long before we meet again."

Sherlock sat there by the pool hugging John's body for what seemed like an eternity before the police had showed up.

"Come on, Sherlock," Lestrade said trying to hide his own sadness.

Sherlock obeyed. Leaving John's body to the medical team.

"Good bye, John." Sherlock uttered barley enough for anyone to hear; "I'll see you soon."


End file.
